When This is Over
by Tracy.Writes
Summary: Post-Destroy ending - Shepard wakes up in an old hospital that was pressed back into service. Now that he's awake, everyone wants a piece of the returned hero - Jack stood vigil in his room, yet ends up last in line. Still, in the middle of the night, patience is rewarded. Nearly pure smut. Sorry. Or, you're welcome. One of those.


**kmeme prompt:**

this anon was not pleased at *SPOILER* Shepard dying at the end of ME3 *END SPOILER*

If you speak to Jack over a connection beforehand, she says "I'm getting laid after this."

I want to see that happen. Maybe Shepard just barely makes it in that usual badass Shepard way, maybe they think he's dead and he suddenly appears. Either way, Jack tracks him down, and the result is rough, "I'm so pissed you almost died but so glad you're alive" sex.

Bonus for dom!Jack

**my response:**

I don't think I quite nailed it (heh), because my story is playful-roleplaying-rough rather than angry-rough (I get kind of gooey thinking about how these two end up having a rather adorable-if-volatile relationship post-ME3, finally), but Jack _is_ a bit dom in this (only because Shepard allows and enjoys it)...so perhaps I qualify for my bonus points. Anyway, I had fun writing it and that's the important thing.

* * *

Shepard clawed himself up out of the darkness, pushing through pain and what felt like a thousand pounds of ballast trying to pull him into the black depths. The first sensation he would remember is the choking sensation of something pushing down his throat, and he gagged, which set off a pounding pain in his head.

Immediately after, there was the sound of voices raised in excitement and the alarms of machines beeping wildly. They were shrill and endless and the fucking pain in his skull and...

The darkness parted again, and slits of dim light poured into his awareness. The gagging sensation didn't come, this time. The pain was there, but dulled. He was breathing. The simple sensation of air entering and leaving his body seemed like the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt, and for long minutes he focused on just that. Breathe. Breathe.

I'm alive.

Again.

The slits of dim light went wider, and he saw...pink? The room was darkened, but enough light remained - cast by a single white lamp in the corner - to illuminate the walls and ceiling just enough to show that they were painted a mild, rosey pink. There were white machines all around him, with screens displaying crawling charts, holograms of his cybernetic implants, lists of numbers. It was night. Hospitals were only this quiet at night.

Slowly moving only his eyes - even the muscles that moved his eyes seemed stiff and unused - he peered through his lowered lids and slowly swept the room. The room was spartan, clean, and antiseptic. Except for one detail. On a white dresser, he could see his helmet. It was grimy, every nook and crevice of it filled with ash and soot, and it looked like it had been beaten with baseball bats before being set on fire.

His eyes slid over to the chair next to the dresser, and he forgot all about the stupid fucking helmet.

Jack.

She curled up like a child in the uncomfortable-looking, barely-cushioned loveseat - a wadded-up leather jacket serving as her pillow, covered by a basic gray blanket, and her bare feet poked out from below it. On the floor beside her were black combat boots, and a pair of simple black socks. With a start, he noticed that her chocolate-brown hair was entire inches longer than when he'd last seen her. It was splayed out over the black jacket from her untied ponytail-mohawk, and her face was relaxed and serene-looking in the way she never was when she was awake.

He'd been out for some time. Again.

He felt his throat tighten at the sight.

She'd waited for him.

* * *

Scotch. Not quite enough to get full-bore angry-drunk on, but yeah.

Enough to feel it a little.

When the golden-boy finally woke up - or, more accurately, was allowed to wake up from his induced coma - she'd fully expect the whole fucking Alliance, media, and dickheads of all types to go pants-shittingly crazy over the _Hero of the Reaper War_.

So, yeah, she'd gone into full retreat mode. Despite the housing shortage, Liara had made some arrangements and she'd been able to rent a tiny apartment only a block away from the hospital. Close enough that she could overlook its parking lot from her front window - just below the ruined horizon of London, a dead Reaper lying out in full sight.

Still, some things didn't change. Media vultures were suddenly camped out all over the goddamn place - she'd turned the news on when she heard that Vakarian was on his way, just to watch the reporters crap themselves with excitement - and military VIP skycars came and went, endlessly.

Fuck. That.

She couldn't even go out to drink, because those numbfuck media types had done fucking specials detailing Shepard's life - his known crew and associates - and her old mug shots had been paraded all over the air. Joker would lap that shit up.

It made her skin crawl.

She'd waited for him, all this goddamn time, and now that he was finally awake - she was the only one not there. It pissed her off.

_Yeah, because life is fair. Suck it up, princess._

It was the third night - and the third night she spent locked up in her hole, nursing this bottle of scotch - when her comm pinged. With a scowl, she unhooked the battered old thing from her belt - omni-tools were a thing she tended to smoke, not ever having had a hardened-up military model. Shepard had offered one, of course, but she dug the retro thing.

[Kasumi - Hey, girl. I'm just leaving. I'm the last one out and he's asking about you. Actually, he's been asking about you all the time, but there's been a lot of people...]

[Jack - Whatever. He's got people kissing his ass to keep him happy.]

[Kasumi - Hey, don't. You know that's not true, and you _know_ that _I_ know what you two had going on. So get over here and get it going on, again. Sad Shep make sad Kasumi. Anyway, I'm already outside and gone. Ninjagirl out, bitches.]

[Jack - Hey. Thanks.]

* * *

It was hard to sleep when you were in bed _all the damn time_. His body was restless. He could do more, he could feel it. But they'd begged, ordered, guilted and cajoled him to wait one more day before starting the very basics of physiotherapy - not that anything was non-functional, but people were _not_ supposed to jump out of bed after nearly two months in a coma and just start fucking around.

Nanobots and cybernetics be damned. They had _procedures_.

Anyway, only his mind was truly tired. Hackett had pumped him for information - gently, and not being unfriendly about it, but still, a grilling was a grilling. The admiral had been frustrated by Shepard's lack of clarity - but it was hard to be clear about things that were half-remembered and made little sense in the first place.

The emotional drain of the reunions. Tali had sobbed openly, as did Kelly. Ash had sniffled and got through it with teasing and jokes, as did Kasumi. Miranda had looked weak in the knees from relief - she'd helped to bring him back from death once, and the teetering edge of it, a second time. In the video feed - Grunt had looked as openly overjoyed as a krogan could possibly be, whereas Wrex had merely nodded and offered a rare smile that spoke volumes.

And Garrus. The turian had entered the room, and stood there, silently. Minutes had passed.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," he'd finally croaked, his mandibles still. Dead-faced.

"Not here, at least," Shepard replied, in a hoarse whisper. "Maybe at that bar you mentioned."

Garrus then pulled his armored gauntlet off, and offered his bare talons. Human and turian had clasped hands for a long, silent moment.

"I'll come back. In a few days, when things have settled," the sniper had grated out, and then he was gone.

Now, Shepard again looked at the small holo-clock they'd allowed him. 1:21 AM.

_Fuck._

The hospital was quiet. Most of the casualties, after two months, had either died or been well enough to be released. The few that were in-between were not numerous enough to-

"Hey."

Slowly, he rolled back over and faced the door. After a moment, he propped himself up on one elbow, slowly, to see her better.

"Hey," he replied, his quiet voice matching the silence of the room.

She was beautiful. Despite all her usual efforts to _not_ be. Unlaced combat boots and blue jeans, topped by a ripped t-shirt that was creamy light purple - bearing the logo of a metal band, a skull-headed reaper and his scythe. Her wide, floppy mohawk-ponytail was loose and draped down the left side of her head, leaving the right side shaved and bare.

Her eyes danced around the room, rarely landing on him for long. "You look alright. Y'know, considering being blown to ratshit 'n all," she drawled, sounding disinterested.

"Come here." He didn't think he could stand playing these little games. Not now. Not after what they'd been through.

"Huh. Didn't take you long to get all bossy," she smirked, but she reached behind herself - closing the door and sending the room a shade darker, as the hall light was cut off. An instant later, he heard the _click_ of the lock.

"Worried someone might disturb your entirely platonic visit?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"If 'platonic' means 'I'm gonna fuck you until you pull the chain for the nurse alarm' then yeah, that's what I meant." In the near darkness, he could see her outline approaching, her heavy boots going silent halfway, as she stopped to toe them off.

"Wasn't planning on having a nurse join us, but if that's what you're into toni-" he never got to finish, as she grabbed the front of his hospital gown in both hands and crashed her mouth into his.

He'd waited days for this. To feel her, to touch her skin and smell her scent. As she probed his mouth with her hot, sweet tongue he groaned involuntarily into her, and he felt her give a tiny chuckle - no doubt thrilled at his reaction. Finally, the need for air separated them.

"You smell pretty nice for broken old soldier laid up in a hospital," she murmured against his mouth as she pecked at him with kisses from those large, soft lips.

It was his turn to laugh quietly. "Had a shower a few hours ago. Pretty much walked there on my own. Proud of myself." It was hard to form full sentences with those gorgeous lips of hers torturing him, and she even ran her tongue over his teeth hungrily as he finished. He shivered with desire for her, already painfully erect under the thin hospital gown.

"Mmm. 'Pretty much', eh? Had a hot young thing guide you there? Did she have to soap you up? You're not getting hero-blowjobs in the shower from the staff, are ya?" The chocolate-brown hair from her long, soft mohawk dragged over his face as she nibbled at his neck and shoulder, and he closed his eyes and turned his head away to give her access.

"I've been waiting for my hot young thing to show up. Had to wait a bit, unfortunately." His hand went up to attempt to pull her down to him, closer, but she caught his wrist and gently pinned it back to the bed, beside his head.

"Stay," she commanded, moving her mouth back up to claim his again. After a long, slow, wet kiss, she continued. "And, I didn't want...I couldn't come until I knew I'd have you alone." Leaving his hand where it was, her hand moved down and she stroked his hard length through the thin cloth, making him screw his eyes tightly closed in a grimace, his hips pushing up towards her. "Because, you know, I don't like sharing you."

It was damned hard to answer coherently, with her fingers gently traveling up and down his entire rigid length. "Don't...want to...be shared. Just you, Jack."

"Good boy. You cracked open this Pandora's Box, Shepard. Now it owns your ass." With that, she pushed his other hand down to match the first, above his head and next to his pillow. "Stay." Reaching under his neck, she tugged loose the knot there, followed by the one under his butt - he lifted his hips helpfully to assist her - and with a dramatic flair, she took the gown from his body and tossed it against the wall, to fall to the floor.

Even in the near-darkness, he saw her eyes glimmer as she took in his naked form. "You lost a little weight. Gained some new scars, too," she muttered, before lowering her head and running her tongue over his abdominal muscles, "still lookin' good, though. Good enough to eat." He bit his bottom lip, and failed to suppress a quiet groan.

"What am I gonna do to you, Shepard?" Her mouth took in one of his nipples, and lightly teased it with her teeth.

"Whatever...you want."

"Fuckin' right I am," she whispered, as her hand moved down and gently gripped him at his base, giving his throbbing shaft a squeeze. "And who does this belong to?"

His head slowly moved from side to side. Restraint was increasingly difficult, and his hands clenched into fists next to his head. "_Ffffuck._ You, Jack. All yours."

"Mine," she repeated quietly, as she moved down his body until he could feel her hot breath against his cock. Still, she didn't touch him except with her hand, giving him a couple of firm, slow strokes. "Look. Watch this."

Taking a breath to gather himself, he raised his head and looked down. Her eyes were fixed on the head of his penis, where her manipulations of him had drawn forth a sparkling bit of clear fluid at his tip. "Mine." With that, she turned her head to face him, and her large, brown eyes locked to his. Slowly, she swiped her hot, wet tongue over his entire head - tasting his fluid and drawing it into her mouth with a quiet _mhmm_ sound.

"Oh...oh shit..." he grated out, his head falling back to his pillow again.

"Tempted to suck you off, right now. A little taste just makes me want more. Do you wanna cum in my mouth, John? I could jerk you off with both of my hands while you just fucking exploded down my throat. Then I'd keep sucking you until I had every single drop. Would you like that?" Her voice was quiet, laced with humor, and teasing. But it was also a direct question.

He took a deep breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Yes."

"I'll file that away for future reference, then. But not right now," she added, still gripping his shaft as she pulled him towards her mouth again, and gave him another lick, making him twitch. "Remember the last thing I said to you?" She asked, nearly a whisper.

His eyes still closed, he nodded. "Trust me, I remember. When this was over, you were getting laid."

"Then you damn near got your stupid ass killed. Left me high and dry for two months, thinking about what I'd do to you when you were able." She released him, and hopped up on the bed. Looking down, he caught a flash of her bare feet showing from the bottom of her jeans before she straddled and settled on him, sitting on his lower stomach just above his raging erection.

For a moment, she simply ran her hands over his broad chest, lightly scratching him with her blunt nails.

"You can move your hands now, but only if you do exactly as I say. When you're done, hands back in position. If you're good, you'll be balls-deep inside of me in no time. Do you want that?"

"Yes. God, yes. And understood."

For a moment, she shifted, rolling her hips slightly, brushing her denim-clad ass against his shaft before she rose up higher on her knees - locking her hands together on the top of her head, lacing her fingers into her hair.

"Undo my belt, take it off me, toss it on the floor."

Taking a breath to calm himself, he met her eyes for a moment, before slowly raising his hands and moving them to her belt buckle. Her jeans were low-slung on her slender hips, but tight, and she sucked in her already-flat stomach to help him. On impulse, he turned one hand palm-up and reached under her - in one motion caressing the warm, and now moist, fabric that was stretched against her groin. The tattooed biotic sucked in a breath in through her teeth, and her right hand seized his jaw, squeezing him almost painfully.

Jack leaned in close to his face, the long, loose hair at the top of her head falling over her face and covering one eye. "You disobedient bastard," she whispered, but with more than a hint of amusement and affection. "Just the belt."

"Sorry," he replied quietly - with an artificially straight face.

"Uh huh. Now take my fucking pants off, soldier," she replied with a bared-teeth sneer.

This time, Shepard was unable to fully suppress his grin. "Yes, ma'am."

Jack straightened up again, and deftly he undid her buckle, then slowly pulled the smooth leather from around her waist in one smooth motion, and dropped it over the edge of the bed to fall on the floor.

"Now the buttons," she directed, with a small nod of approval. Jack's breathing was clearly elevated, and her nostrils flared with each breath.

The main snap and three smaller buttons later, the lanky biotic stood up on the bed, her bare feet on either side of his hips. Hooking her thumbs in the belt loops, she gave a slight wiggle as she slid them down to her knees - nimbly lifted one foot, then the other, and tossed them aside into a darkened corner.

Wearing only the ripped, ratty, tight-fitting purple t-shirt and her tattoos, she stood over him. His erection throbbed painfully as his eyes wandered over her - the slender legs, the tiny and waspish waist, her long, lanky arms as she put her hands to her boyish and slender hips, full of forced bravado.

"See anything you like?" she asked in challenge - but, as always, he caught the note of insecurity there.

"Everything, Jack. You're beautiful," he replied quietly, brushing his hands over her bare ankles and calves - feeling the youthful, smooth skin that so contrasted with the violent imagery of her ink. His eyes wandered over the naked flesh, to her eyes, and flickered to her bare lower lips. As always, her entire body was hairless and baby-smooth - he supposed that her familiarity with tattoo parlors and the resulting staff and clientele had certainly gave her familiarity with laser-treatments or whatnot. Unconsciously, he licked his lips - a reaction she didn't miss.

"Told you about following my instructions perfectly, about the belt thing," she growled. "You didn't. Copped a feel, you dog. Time to adjust your attitude a little. Hands next to your head."

Silently, he complied, and she abruptly took a half-step forward and dropped to her knees - her shins pinning his biceps to the bed, and her hands pinning his own down. "Sick...of jerking off while just _thinking_ about you doing this to me."

"Gonna"-adjusting herself forward, she pressed her hot and already-wet labia into his waiting lips-"fuck your mouth."

As his tongue pressed up into her, she threw back her head and cried out, wordlessly.

"Hnnnghn!" the slender biotic squealed through her teeth, as her hips jerked and twitched in time with his tongue rubbing over the little button of her clit. Her hands gripping Shepard's tightly as she leaned her weight onto them, pinning them to the bed. The ex-convict rocked herself over his mouth again and again, finally looking down at him, watching her own naked pussy lips part as they slid up and down over his slippery lower face.

It was too much. Too intense in sensation, too many fireworks exploding her brain. Shepard was alive. He was _hers_. She was riding his face, rubbing her slit all over his mouth - his tongue hot and alive on her. A warm pressure was building in her abdomen, her skin felt like it was burning off of her, and sweat broke out to dot her forehead.

Through her squinted eyes she saw the room begin to reflect the biotic glow that was starting to curl and crawl over her flesh - before she gave a sudden, open-mouthed silent scream as she convulsed on him - her orgasm thundering through her as she ground herself on his lips in short, jerking motions. Distantly, she heard a continuous flow of brutal profanity that someone was gasping out breathlessly - and it took her a good long moment to realize it was herself doing this. Below her, Shepard moaned into her soaking tunnel, and the small vibration was nearly painful against her now hyper-sensitive nub.

Finally, she flexed her rubbery-feeling legs and rose herself from him, and he gasped in a welcomed breath even as she gave a giddy laugh - after all the shit he'd survived, what if history went down that he'd been suffocated by some skinny bitch's pussy being shoved into his face? Still chuckling, she slid her sweat-moistened body down his - kissing his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally his mouth. Eagerly tasting herself on him, her tongue chased after his, kissing him deeply and hungrily in silent appreciation for what he just did for her - licking her sticky juices from his lips and chin, cleaning him before peppering his face with tiny kisses as he grinned widely.

Finally, releasing his hands, she weakly dropped her head into his chest, just below his chin. "Jesus, Shep. Fuck. I don't even know what to say. You made me cum like a goddamned dragon." Below, she was pushing herself against his upright, pulsing shaft, rubbing herself against the top of it and slowly moving herself up and down the length of him.

Reached down with his newly-freed arms, he gripped her hips and pushed her more firmly against his shaft, groaning quietly as her lips parted and slid up and down the outside of his length - making her breath catch as again her clitoris was stroked against his rock-hard cock.

"Came like a dragon...all over my mouth?" he supplied helpfully, his voice quiet and teasing.

"Mmmm, yes, fucking hell. That'll be in my spank-bank for the next hundred years, by the way. Shame we didn't record a vid of that." She was presently far too sated to remember the dominant role she'd been playing, and momentarily relaxed into him like an exhausted, satisfied cat.

He made a quiet _hmph_ sound. "Now that's an ide-"

There was a quiet knock at the door, and a female voice. "Commander Shepard, sir? Are you alright? Your vitals showed an abnormal spike and..."

Lifting her head, Jack roared. "CAN THE SAVIOR OF THE FUCKING GALAXY NOT GET A LITTLE PUSSY AROUND HERE?!"

There was a squeak, and the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, and Shepard's head fell back against the pillows as he burst out into laughter.


End file.
